


Hate Mail

by rossalupus



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Falling In Love, real world AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 05:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10507470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rossalupus/pseuds/rossalupus
Summary: For Blake, every day is the same, drag herself into consciousness, waste her life at a iob she despised then back to bed untill the alarm drags her back again.Untill she gets a letter, not a bill or advertisement, an actual letter.





	1. Blake

An alarm blared to life somewhere in the dark room, but Blake was already awake, as always. Pulling herself out of bed she stumbled over to the bathroom, shutting off the alarm clock as she passed it.

Turning on the light, she blinked the sleep from her eyes. Wincing as the harsh neon white bulb flickered to life. The person in the mirror glared at her, golden eyes filled with contempt, but today like every day she payed her no heed, turning her back on her as she entered the shower.

The freezing water helped to shock her awake, and after a quick scrub she emerged from the shower feeling somewhat ready to start the day. Her thoughts turned back to when she had spent hours doing her makeup and styling her hair each morning, before she had given up. Running a hand through her short black hair she sure that choice had been sound at the least. It was not like anyone had ever noticed anyway, so what was the point in going through all that effort?

Breakfast was the same as every day, greek yogurt with honey. Once upon a time she had spent half her morning trying to get the perfect ratio of honey to yogurt. Now she hardly even tasted it as she shovelled it into her mouth, staring off into the distance, not really thinking about anything.

Tossing her bowl and spoon in the sink, she trudged to the front door to retrieve her mail. The only good thing about living in this part of town was the postal service, everywhere else in Vale you'd expect your postman to stumble to your door sometime around lunch, but the foulmouthed Mercury Black who delivered the Mail to the Residences of Beacon street believed himself a step above the soggy posties of other parts of the city, and he took great care in ensuring all his post was delivered before dawn. Unfortunately this marvellous work ethic was throughly wasted on Blake, who had never got any mail worth receiving since she had moved here four years ago.

Shifting through the stack of bills and advertisements, she wondered why she didn't just throw the whole stack straight into the bin each morning. She paid her bills online anyway, and there was never anything else other than spam.

She stopped on a yellow envelope. It wasn't one of those "to the resident" letters with the glossy window on the side of the envelope, the paper was too high quality. Written across it with a marker pen was her name, so that eliminated it being from Work or from her parents, though they had stopped trying to keep in contact years ago, her father still too stubborn to accept her decisions.

This left Blake at a dilemma, aside from work and the occasional builder or plumber she hadn't talked to anyone since she came to Vale. She had no idea who the letter could be from, and that was equal parts worrying and exciting.

Running one finger along the edge of the letter she savoured the feeling, the first time in a long time that she'd felt anything other than anger or apathy. Taking a deep breath she picked open the envelope, unable to stop her hands shaking. The paper inside was yellow as well, but rather than being handwritten it looked to have been done on a typewriter.

Unable to focus she placed the unfolded letter back on the kitchen table alongside its envelope, before putting her curled thumb into her mouth and biting down hard on the knuckle. The sharp pain drowned out her excitement, and as she clenched her jaw tighter she brought her breathing back to a steady pace. Finally calm she picked the letter back up and began to read.

Ms. Bitchadonna

Let me start by saying you are by far the worst person I have ever had the misfortune of laying eyes upon.

It continued much in the same vein for both pages. To say the letter was a dress down would be like saying the sun was hot. Her every failing and flaw was laid bare yet despite that it still managed to be passionate, a cross between a meticulous list and an enraged rant. Blake felt tears well up as she reached the end, but not because of its content, but rather because it was over. It hurt to know that someone could hate her so much, but It wasn't surprising. What WAS surprising was that someone could know so much about her. This meant someone had actually paid attention to her long enough to even figure out that the way she chewed her cheek when stressed made her, as they put it so eloquently, "look like a retarded squirrel".

The letter had broken the monotony of her admittedly god awful life, and better yet It meant someone cared that she existed, for better or worse. Though the words stung the pain was dulled by a warm feeling in her belly.

For the first time in a long time Blake felt happy, and with the content of the letter already forgiven and forgotten she left for work with a smile on her face and spring in her step.


	2. Yang

Yang had never considered herself special. Brought up in a lower middle class as the only child of her father first marriage with an American woman who'd barely stuck around long enough to even warrant being called her mother, she was about as maladjusted as everyone else. She had a row of 3rd place trophies on top of her chest of drawers, and her results from her final year exams, all Bs, were framed in her fathers office. She wasn't destined to go on to do great things, or even anything remotely interesting, and yet here she was at three in the morning in a car going almost double the speed limit.

The radio was stuck between stations but no one made a move to change it. None of the cars other occupants seemed to register the static filling the car, sawing at her nerves as she watched Neptune drum tunelessly on the dashboard with a look of utter terror plastered across his face. Beside her Cardin was snoring softly, his impressive bulk taking up most of the other two seats in the back, and in the drivers seat sat Sun Wukong, who was fighting to stay awake. It was still dark outside, and usually none of them would be up for another four hours at least. Yang watched the streetlights as the flew past, and wondered if they had done the right thing. Bitch or not the letter was a bit... extreme.

"You sure we got the right house?" Neptune said, the drumming getting more frantic.  
Sun grunted in affirmation, his eyes fixed on the road, occasionally jerking around as he shook his head to fight the drowsiness.

"Blake would never move, she as spontaneous as a cactus." Sun mumbled. She kept on forgetting he'd known Belladonna at school, the scraggly blonde rogue was hardly befitting the image of your typical private school boy. He had been the one to suggest she write out her anger though, and the one who convinced her to deliver it, so whatever friendship they'd had was as dead as they would be if they were caught.  
They slowed at a traffic light, and she took the opportunity to lean forward and twist the knob on the radio until the energetic beat of a pop song filled the car.   
"No use worrying about it now gentlemen, lets get some breakfast and hope its not our last!"

Neptune groaned   
"I'm too pretty to die"


End file.
